


Cult Logic

by orangelightsaber



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Kylux - Freeform, Modern AU, Modern magic AU, Multi, Reylo - Freeform, Reylux - Freeform, and sex, black market shenanigans, dark magic artifacts, hux as a jealous ex, mysterious blood magic shit, there is likely to be violence, there will definitely be sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangelightsaber/pseuds/orangelightsaber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood Magic Modern AU</p><p>When a mysterious figure from Ben's past reappears will he be able to keep himself from being dragged back into the fray?</p><p>Reylux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cult Logic

_All my life I've been the slave of consequence_  
_Wondering how this life could be so intricate_  
_I wanna rewrite my heart and let the future in_  
_I wanna open it up and let somebody in_

 _Can you free me from the logic that I knew_  
_I believe it even if it is not true_

 _Am I falling asleep on my feet again?_  
_I call out, is anybody listening_  
_And it's like I'm diving into emptiness_  
_But at least there's something beating in my chest_

 _Can you free me from the logic that I knew_  
_I believe it even if it is not true_

 

* * *

 

 

He never thought he'd see it again.

 

That smirking, self-satisfied face—green-glass eyes peering out from beneath fox-gold lashes—and yet, there he was, smiling out at Ben through the bright blare of the television. There was that familiar, open-mouth smile, almost not a smile at all; the panting grin of a wolf about to devour its prey.

 

Their eyes seemed to lock through the filter of the TV screen and even though he knew—he _knew_ there was no way Hux could see him here, could know he was watching, could feel his eyes—even so, his body tensed involuntarily, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead, his nape, his chest.

 

He clenched his fist and watched with satisfaction as the TV blinked to black. His heart pounded loud in the newly silent room— _thudthudthud_ against the too-tight cage of his ribs. He felt as though he'd suddenly run a marathon, sweaty and gasping.

 

Rey stirred from where she'd been dozing, pressed up against his side as they'd watched whatever late-night rerun comedy they'd been able to agree on. The blanket fell from her shoulder and he tugged it back up to cover the swath of exposed skin, blushed gold and freckled.

 

Kylo—no, _Ben_ , he reminded himself. He was Ben now. Ben like he was before. _BenBenBenBen_ , he whispered mentally, putting it between him and the man on the screen as though it were a talisman. As though it could push out the thoughts, the memories. Put him out of your mind, Ben. He won't find you. Can't find you.

 

* * *

 

 

"Who is this?" asked Rey, curious as they sorted through a stack of boxes, filtering through their shared junk to decide what they truly needed for their apartment and what could be tossed.

 

He glanced over at where she sat, peering down at a photograph. She'd been picking through a shoebox of his old college knickknacks--photos, ticket stubs and the like.

 

It was a Polaroid, grainy and dark, the ink beginning to seep out along the edges and stain the white—taken at some house party in college, years ago.

 

He was smiling in the photo, unusual enough on its own, and Poe was beside him, arm draped around his shoulders, grinning and looking so drunk he might fall over—but that wasn't who she was talking about. The man at the back of the image, red-haired and unsmiling, half-hidden in shadow.

 

"It's Poe," he answered, "his hair was longer back then."

 

“Ben.” She gave him the look she reserved for when he was playing dumb. “Not Poe. The guy behind him, red-hair, cheekbones--" She traced the tip of her finger along the image. "I've seen him before."

 

"I don't remember," he lied. "Where have you seen him?" Maybe she'd caught the same news story he had, First Order Enterprises and all that.

 

"Around town," she replied, and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, a yawning chasm. "He comes into the bookstore occasionally, and I've spoken to him at the gym." She set the photo back into the box, "That's funny. I wonder if he remembers you."

 

* * *

 

His fingers shook as he tossed the burner phone onto the checkout conveyor. He placed a pack of gum behind it, spearmint, hoping the action hid his nerves, made him look casual.

 

The cashier raised an eyebrow. Probably thought he was a drug dealer or something; who else needed a burner phone these days? Ben ignored the look, nodded in response to the attempt at conversation, and left his cash in a wad on the counter.

 

He ripped into the package, gnawing the wrapping with fingers and teeth until the phone slid into his hand, cheap and plastic.

 

His fingers flew over the keys, tapping numbers he’d thought (hoped) he'd forgotten. He typed out a quick message and hit send, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut that told him he was doing something wrong. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, was he? He couldn’t be sure. Everything always got so— _complicated_ , when it came to Hux.

 

He didn't have to wait long for a response.

 

>> Kylo. It's been a while.

 

He toyed with the keypad, unsure what to say. Unsure how to say it. He settled for directness, felt his heartbeat in his throat as he keyed in the words:

 

<< stay away from her

 

>> I don't take demands over the phone.

 

He sighed and rubbed his hand angrily across his forehead. Of course. _Of course._

 

<< old haunt 20 min

 

* * *

 

 

Hux was already waiting for him when he reached the abandoned house. He looked the same as ever, tall and gaunt, a renaissance portrait in fox-red hair and green eyes, always chiaroscuro, edged in gold and shadows.

 

"She's pretty," he said, as a thin curl of smoke drifted out through his nose. "Hard though, I like that." His grin was pointed, underlit by the glowing ember of his cigarette. "A survivor."

 

"Don't talk about her," growled Ben.

 

"Haven't told her, have you?" He leaned back against the wall. "About me—about _us_? About all those things you've done for me." He laughed. "Bloody fingerprints. Do you remember? The first time you killed a man and you cried because he left bloody fingerprints on your face."

 

Kylo held back a shiver at the words. He could smell the man’s blood as through it were yesterday, feel the heat of dying hands on his face as he'd faded, faded.

 

"I fucked you raw that night," continued Hux, nonchalant. "I can still remember the way you begged me for it."

 

Kylo clenched his fists, nails digging into soft flesh. Focusing on the pain. Blood would be good, he thought, willing it to seep up through the half-moon indents. He could do something with blood.

 

"She's like you, isn't she?" said Hux, wiping away any thoughts Ben had been forming as his mouth went suddenly dry. "That thing you do. That blood magic bullshit. She can do it too."

 

There was no use denying it. Hux wouldn't ask unless he knew. He wasn't one much given to speculation.

 

"She doesn't know."

 

"Interesting." Hux grinned openly at that. "And I imagine you'd rather no one told her—don't want anyone getting ahold of her, _hm_? Thinking of keeping her all to yourself—your little apprentice?"

 

"No," he snarled defensively. " _Maybe_. What do you care? You've gone legitimate now. I saw you on TV," he accused, "First Order Enterprises."

 

"I have many ventures. Some more legitimate than others."

 

Ben ignored that, unsure whether it was a joke or merely a statement. "Why are you following her?"

 

Hux said nothing for a long moment, merely sucked at the end of his cigarette until his cheeks went hollowed. "To find you, of course. You've done an admirable job of staying off my radar, but the time for that is over."

 

"No. Whatever it is you want, I’m not interested." He shrugged up his coat around his shoulders. "Stay away from me, stay away from Rey." He turned to exit the room.

 

"Snoke’s back."

 

He knew what Hux was hoping—that he had enough anger, enough vengeance in him to turn around at that, to return. Kylo would have, but Ben, Ben was _trying_.

 

He didn't look back.

 

* * *

 

He nearly made it around the corner before he broke into a run. His instincts screamed, expecting _something_ —a blow to the back of his neck, a bite at his wrist, to be dragged away into the grasping darkness. Nothing came.

 

He sprinted for home, made it half-way there before he realized how stupid that was and took a hard left, circling back around to make sure he wasn’t followed, wasn’t leading anyone straight to Rey.

 

He jogged till he reached a gas station, made his way inside and grabbed a cherry slush, relieved at the familiar way the cold bit into his mouth, made his teeth ache.

 

The summer nights were long and the pink blush shadows are only just starting to creep around the corners of the houses. No one was there. Just empty streets, suburban cul-de-sacs void of people, void of character.

 

Eventually he returned to their apartment. Looked longingly at the door before retreating to the small plot of a backyard they shared with the other tenants. The grass was yellow-brown from the summer heat, dead and trampled, and there was a lingering scent of propane in the air.

 

In the corner there was a tree, dry and desiccated, that he approached, cautious. He circled the trunk till he was hidden from view, out of reach of the neighborhood's prying eyes. He ran his fingers up and down until he found it, _there,_ a seam along the bark, almost like a closed eye turned sideways.

 

His hand slid into his pocket, gripping tight around the penknife he carried.

 

Blood. It was always blood. Blood for the making, blood for the breaking. He flipped the blade open and  slid it across his palm, flinched as ruby bright droplets welled up along the cut, pressed his hand to the trunk. The seam opened with a sigh, revealing a small alcove that smelt faintly of beeswax and rosemary.

 

Three items lay within. The dagger with the cracked crystal pommel, the red-gold ring, and the book of matches, half-burned. He withdrew all three, tucking them haphazardly into his jacket pockets.

 

Better safe than sorry.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on tumblr about whatever SW stuff you like!
> 
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> 
> [orange-lightsaber](http://orange-lightsaber.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Not sure if I'm going to continue this story, as it came to me in a sudden Diana Wynne-Jones flavored splash of inspiration, so please let me know if you're interested and you would like me to :)


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